


Cultural Miseducation

by orphan_account



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Avari and the Noldor have very different ways of marking one's entrance into adulthood.





	Cultural Miseducation

**Author's Note:**

> In one of my classes, we were reading about a tribe where the young men would get ‘powers’ from the older men via oral sex (i wish I could remember the tribe’s name, but it’s been a while). 
> 
> Anyway, there’s a lot of ‘sex as a mark of adulthood’ throughout history, so I wanted to play with that a bit in Gondolin.

It wasn’t the way the Avari did things, that was for sure.

His father’s people would have given him more tattoos to mark his coming of age, but he had been told that wasn’t the way of things in Gondolin.

Turgon had graciously offered to let Maeglin choose his partner - even though it was traditionally chosen by the parent of the child and kept a secret - and Maeglin had tried to talk Ecthelion into it.

At first, the minstrel had been flattered by what he was proposing, but when Maeglin had said it would be a sham, he’d seemed crestfallen.

“You wish for me to lie to your uncle and tell him I’ve completed the ceremony?” he asked, horror glittering in his soft eyes. “No, Lomion. I won’t do that.”

Apparently Ecthelion had told his uncle what he’d tried, because the next time he’d seen Turgon, the king had simply said that he would find someone for Maeglin.

Turgon took the place of his father in the ceremony, and, most humiliatingly, Idril took the place of his mother.

They stood in the middle of an empty room, although Maeglin knew that they had an audience, hidden somewhere in the shadows. Turgon had explained to him that the other lords would be present for the first part of the ceremony, but for the second part, it would be just him and his paramour. 

The first thing they did was wrap a blindfold over his eyes. It was meant so that he wouldn’t know who was taking him, although, he suspected he’d be able to figure it out.

Then he was undressed.

His face burned, bright red as he was stripped naked in front of his audience. Just because he couldn’t see them, didn’t mean he hadn’t heard their footsteps coming closer.

A cup was placed against his lips, and although he hated to do it, he drank from it. It was Idril’s sole part in the ceremony, giving Maeglin some sort of drug that would ensure his participation.

He could only hope it didn’t set in too soon and leave him looking like a fool in front of everyone.

He knew Idril had left after her role was completed, and he found himself grateful she was leaving so soon. She would be with his partner, undressing him and anointing him with perfumed oils.

Hands rested on his shoulders and Maeglin allowed himself to be led to a long stone table, mentally cursing the Noldor as he was laid on his back.

He knew it was Turgon who was stretching him. His uncle had explained multiple times that it was tradition, even after Maeglin had tried to argue he could do it himself.

_“If you are in any way prepared before the ceremony, we will be forced to put it off,” _his uncle had said sternly.

Despite himself, Maeglin had obeyed.

Hands rested on his shoulder, and someone gave him a soft squeeze. He recognized the rough calloused hands as belonging to Rog.

That was one person who wasn’t his partner down.

It also wasn’t going to be Ecthelion if he were to guess, and after listening for a moment he recognized the minstrel’s even breathing.

He could also hear Salgant’s much more labored breaths and sent a quiet prayer that his uncle hadn’t let the fawning harpist complete the ceremony.

Who then? He could hazard a guess, or at least narrow down the list to those his uncle was most fond of. Penlod or Glorfindel. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. 

Then he heard them leave.

By that point he was beside himself, shaking from the effects of the drug he’d been given.

“Lomion?” whispered a soft voice in his ear.

All he could do was gasp. The drug had taken all his resistance, and he only wanted the man - he knew it was Glorfindel by his voice - to make it end. He knew the other wasn’t supposed to talk to him, but a part of him - the defiant part that had begged Ecthelion to lie to his uncle - was grateful for the break in tradition.

“Ecthelion said you’re frightened,” the golden lord murmured. “You don’t need to be. Everyone does this.”

Maeglin wanted to sob that it wasn’t what his people did, but all he could do was attempt to rut into Glorfindel and curse the drug coursing through his veins.

“Do you want to be over the table, on the floor, or in my lap?” he was still quiet, no doubt not wanting anyone to know he’d spoken despite tradition.

“No.” He didn’t want any of it. He just wanted to run away and pleasure himself until the drug wore off.

Glorfindel sighed and made the decision for him, gently pushing him onto his stomach on the table. “Spread your legs,” he whispered.

He pushed his legs as far apart as they would go, shaking as he felt Glorfindel feel for his already stretched hole.

Then he entered him.

He stopped once he was inside, giving Maeglin plenty of time to adjust to the feeling, stroking his side reassuringly.

Then he began to thrust. Maeglin remained stubbornly still, his jaw set, resisting the urge to give in to the drug and lose himself in the pleasure.

“You have to make noise, Maeglin,” Glorfindel scolded. “Otherwise no one will believe I’ve actually taken you.”

Maeglin set his jaw, fighting against the protests of his body. He had already decided that if they were going to force him into this, he wasn’t going to be obedient.

“If you don’t make noise,” Glorfindel hissed into his ear. “They will come and _watch_, Lomion.”

Obediently, Maeglin let out a groan. 

It wasn’t hard to keep making noises after that, it was clear he had a very experienced lover, but he couldn’t help the rising feeling of helplessness in his chest. He didn’t want to be aroused, he didn’t want Glorfindel thrusting into him, he didn’t want the other to be stroking his cock.

Maeglin only wanted to be left alone.

When it was over, he barely waited for his climax to finish before he snarled, “Out.”


End file.
